You Gonna Finish That?
by Missie DuCaine
Summary: BobbySt. John There has to be someone in this mansion with enough money to go in on ordering pizza!


_X-Men is owned by Marvel, not me. They own it, I don't. And they have all the money, I don't._

**You Gonna Finish That**

"Not enough," Bobby sighed, dropping his wallet onto the bed.

"Shit," St. John scowled. "I was really craving bread with cheese, too."

"Cheesy bread," Bobby corrected, automatically. Sighing, he flopped back on his blankets, staring up at the ceiling. "Well, what do you think? Suppose we can bribe someone else into going in on pizza with us?"

St. John frowned thoughtfully. "Remy?"

"Naw, he told me yesterday he's broke," Bobby sighed.

"Pietro?"

"That boy burns through money as fast as he runs," Bobby groaned. "No."

"One of the girls? Or a whole bunch of the girls?"

"God, no. They'll end up eating anything we order too. They're like Hoovers."

"One of the teachers?"

Bobby sat up, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "That's not such a bad idea. The teachers are guaranteed to have _some_ money. Ororo, you think? Or maybe Jean..."

"Scott," St. John nodded. "He loves pizza."

"Great!" Bobby bounded off the bed. "You are a genius, Johnny." And he dropped a quick kiss on his boyfriend before declaring: "Let's go find him!"

They finally found Scott in the kitchen, where he was poking half heartedly at a batch of cookies that appeared to have just come out of the oven. A little too black.

"Mr. Summers!" Bobby chirped, settling himself on one of the island stools. "Hey! Nice looking cookies."

"Yeah. I think I left them in too long." Scott sighed, and dropped the charcoaled one he'd been holding onto the plate with the others. "So, boys. What are you up to?"

"We want to order pizza, but neither of us have enough to actually make it worthwhile," St. John answered. "Wanna help?"

"Order pizza?" Scott perked up a little. "If I can order one for me, too."

"Absolutely," Bobby nodded. "What do you want?"

"Medium. Hawaiian. Extra pineapple."

"Pineapple? Even your pizza is fruity." All three men in the kitchen turned to see Logan as he strolled into the room as though he owned the place. Pausing beside Scott, Logan peered at the burned cookies. "You make these?"

"Yeah," Scott sighed, choosing to ignore Logan as he dug in his back pocket for his wallet. "Are we going to order drinks, too?"

"Sure," Bobby nodded eagerly. "Drinks are good."

"Bumper's has a sale on," St. John spoke up. "Comes with Ben and Jerry's ice cream."

Scott perked up significantly at that. "Really? Cookies and Creme, too?"

"Pretty much everything, I think," St. John shrugged.

"They're not half bad," Logan interrupted, and everyone gaped at him. Oddly enough, he was crunching away on Scott's charcoal cookies, and shrugged when they all stared at him. "I've eaten worse. Hey, I toss in a twenty, you'll order me a meatlovers?"

Bobby grinned easily at him. "Certainly."

"Great." Logan crossed his arms. "And Rocky Road."

St. John snorted. "There's irony for you."

Logan arched a single eyebrow, but didn't answer.

Bobby jumped up, reaching for the portable phone that hung in it's cradle on the wall. "I'll order!"

Half an hour later, Bobby practically sprinted back into the kitchen, holding aloft his prize. Four medium pizza boxes, two boxes of cheesy bread, two boxes of wings, a bag with a six pack of Coke, and another with four individual tubs of Ben and Jerry's.

Food was divvied up, and soon conversation and soda were flowing.

"No way," Bobby snorted. "She actually _wrote_ that?"

"Scouts honour," Scott grinned before taking a large bite of Hawaiian pizza.

"Did you pass her?" St. John asked, through a mouthful of cheesy bread.

"I _couldn't_, not with that answer!" Scott shook his head. "I wanted to, I did, but really..."

"She was an idiot, and she deserved it." Logan took another swig of his pop. "What? I read the answer too, Cyke. She was being an idiot."

Bobby rolled his eyes, and popped the lid off his Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, digging his spoon eagerly into the cold, pale green confection. God, he loved this flavour. It was to _die for_, as far as he was concerned. Before he could eat his spoonful, however, St. John had reached over, grabbed his hand, and eaten the spoonful himself.

Cheekily grinning at Bobby, St. John asked, "So? Whatcha gonna do, ice boy?"

"Get it back!" Bobby grinned, then leaned in, and kissed his boyfriend. St. John complied nicely when he pressed his tongue against his lips, and soon Bobby's tongue was making broad sweeps of the smaller boy's mouth, which tasted like cheese and mint, until St. John was whimpering, and Booby pulled back slowly, smirking. "Got it," he purred.

"That was hot," Logan remarked, simply.

"Well, um... yes," Scott agreed, reluctantly.

Logan nodded thoughtfully. "Let's copy."

"Let's not!" Scott spluttered.

"Oh, get over yourselves and go find a closet to make out in," St. John snorted, still feeling fuzzy and happy and cocky after that kiss. "Everyone knows you want to."

Scott looked like he was about to fall off his chair. Logan was smirking.

Bobby sighed, and thunked his head down on the counter.

"Besides," St. John shrugged. "Then I can eat your ice cream. You gonna finish that?"


End file.
